Domestic Annoyance

October is Domestic Violence month.  A gal came by at the beginning of the month and handed out some brochures describing what defines domestic violence.  There are a couple of things that are not on the list that I think should be considered: ie. tickling, noogies and loud smooches right in your ear.  All of which I do not appreciate.  However, Mr. T gets a big kick out of them, ergo I must endure these hardships from time to time.

On one such occasion, just after the domestic violence brochures came out, the content was fresh on my mind and I told Mr. T that, "Domestic violence is more then just punching someone.  It's also other forms of torture, like tickling!"  To which he said, "Tickling isn't domestic violence.  Tickling is domestic ANNOYANCE!" 

True.  I certainly don't have a case for domestic violence, however, I (along with many women all around the globe) can safely claim that we are victims of domestic annoyance! 

As I look down the list of what qualifies as domestic violence, I see the following:
Name calling
Driving recklessly
Interfering with sleep
Pinching

After a brief moment of consideration, I've come to realize that I am guilty of all those things.  Which brings me to the conclusion that Mr. T is a victim of MY domestic violence!!! 

I hope he doesn't turn me in.  Can you blog from prison?


   

Breakfast of Champions

This morning Mr. T made a yummy-licious breakfast.  Waffles, bacon, coffee, juice - DOUBLE YUM! 

While I was upstairs getting ready for work, I noticed the house getting a little smoky because of the bacon cooking. 

A smoky house is a familiar sight where we live.  Mostly because I do a lot of the cooking and a lot of the burning of food.  Food that would have probably tasted okay, except I tried to cook it too fast or got distracted by something and charred it to a crisp. 

Which is kind of how the bacon was this morning.  Crispy.  Just the way I like it. 

And the smoky house was fine too.  I came to work with my hair smelling like a campfire and some of my co-workers seemed confused at the unusual scent.  But now the smell in my hair has faded a bit and it simply smells like yummy bacon. 

Meat eating humans and dogs alike think I smell delicious. 

That's how I got the idea to market a bacon smelling perfume. 

Keep an eye out for it.

PS - did I ever tell you that we have a dog named Annie.  She's the quirkiest little thing you've ever seen.

PPS - did I ever tell you that in one of the houses we used to rent, I would often burn the food and set off the smoke alarm.  Annie hated the sound and would run and hide under my bed.  It got to the point where she would hide under my bed as soon as she saw me standing by the stove.  Before I even started cooking, she would find her safe place and wait out the inevitable.  I think my cooking is improving because she doesn't do that as often. 

You can take the girl out of the country...

But you can't take the country out of the girl!

Fortunately, the 7 years I spent in Kansas City didn't take all the "country" out of me. 
And last Saturday was proof.

Mr. T and I spent the day working on the yard.  At some point, a while back, he ordered a huge mound of dirt that he was going to use for something.  I can't remember what - but I do know that we ended up with way more than we needed.

Therefore, we decided to give the dirt to our good friends, the Scollards, because they are some of the best people we know and we love them and we love to give them our leftover dirt...plus they had a skid steer that someone lent them and we needed it to get the job done. 

So, we borrowed the borrowed skid steer, loaded it up with dirt and made several treks ACROSS TOWN with the thing to deliver dirt to their house.



There were some ladies sitting on their front porch who were quite entertained/perplexed that a young-ish GIRL was driving a skid steer back and forth across town. 

I felt really cool.
And really country!
Which is the way I was created to live. 
The country way.

To top it off, that evening Mr. T and I met Grandma and Grandpa T at the local grade school to watch them square dance.

Grandma and Grandpa T love square dancing and they are really, really, really good at it!  My favorite couple to watch! 

They even took a break from the norm and taught us "newbies" a few steps.  After some coaxing, Mr. T joined in and was also really, really, really good.  Must be genetics.  Is there a "good at square dancing gene"?  If so, the T's have it!  He was better than me and I pride myself on being a quick study when it comes to dance routines. 

So, the bad news is that we now have to add "square dancing" to the list of things Mr. T is better at then me.
The good news is that we all know he CAN dance, even though he claims he's terrible at it.  AND when he dances, he smiles from ear to ear, which makes me smile from ear to ear.

I'd say, between driving the skid steer and square dancing, we had one Saturday that was filled with a heaping helping of Hick!  And I couldn't be happier...